Sunday, July 28, 2013

All In a Day’s Work

By the time John Kelly Stevens had attained the rank of
sergeant, his name began to appear in the Fort
Wayne newspapers on a regular basis. His day could not
be classified as anything unusual for a supervisor of any city’s beat cops—even taking
sick time made the front page—but it is interesting to take a tour of reports
in which he was involved.

Some reports seemed petty, some flared up and died down, all
before law enforcement could arrive on the scene. The reports provide the
flavor of the city as well as John Kelly’s personal history, showing the
problems the city bore over the years.

There was, for instance, “an uproar” reported in The Fort Wayne Sentinel on April 16 of 1898, which Sergeant Stevens investigated, along with the help of Officer
Spillner—however, all they could learn was “that there had been a fight, but they
were unable to locate the offenders.”

About a month later, there was the breathless report that “a
burglar was attempting to force an entrance into the residence” of a doctor on West Wayne Street.
The call for help even came in by telephone! Once again, however,

Sergeant Stevens went
to the place, but after making a search returned to the station without a
prisoner. He was unable to find any trace of robbers.

Two prisoners,
Nicholas Williams, a vagrant, and Henry Frederickson, charged with provoke,
were in police court this morning. Frederickson became abusive to a street car
conductor at the ball park Friday and Sheriff Melching arrested him. Mayor
Scherer sent the young man to jail. Williams was arrested by Sergeant Stevens
and Officer Romy. He is the fellow who enticed a lad named Ford from Camp Mount
to St. Louis, where the officers took charge of
the boy and sent him back to Fort
Wayne. Williams met young Ford yesterday and again
tried to coax him away. The boy was too smart this time and notified the
police. Williams was sent to jail.

There were heartwarming stories, such as the brief entry
indicating that “This morning Sergeant Stevens gave a poor woman lodging at the
Star hotel.”

Then there were stories requiring compassion-on-the-job,
such as the tale of John Smith, the local dairyman. His “milk wagon, with a
double team, sundry milk cans, and other accoutrements” had disappeared, along
with his daughter—“a rosy cheeked lass of eighteen” who, as was later
discovered, had eloped with a son of the nearest neighbor, “a handsome country
youth” during the incident. The bereft father

stood before Sergeant
Stevens at the police station last night and poured out such a tale of
tribulation and woe that the sergeant thought the story of Job was being
enacted over again.

The father, by the way, had come to town to see about
getting his equipment back. His daughter “and her chosen one,” he figured, “would
be able to take care of themselves” but he wanted his wagon back. Natch.

Of course, no job in law enforcement would be complete
without action and, unfortunately, violence. There were several tales of
near-misses with knives and other objects, as well as the ever-present fist
fights. One suspect, classified by the Fort
Wayne Journal as an “all round ‘bad man,’” was reported as “making a
vicious lunge at the Sergeant” upon being booked in to the jail.

The Sergeant, unfortunately, also witnessed his fair share
of violence upon others, not only as the result of murders or attacks, but also
as the reporting officer for suicides, drownings and train casualties. Since
some of these stories will figure prominently in the Stevens family history, I’ll
save those links for later posts. That sobering part of a policeman’s duties,
however, are seldom reflected upon by the general public, yet are some of the
deep stresses that make law enforcement such a challenging occupation.

Of course, one could never go through a recital of the
litany of daily duties of a city cop without including the usual suspects: the
drunks, the vagrants, the…well, the…

Last evening Sergeant
Stevens and Officer Rohrer made a raid on the rooms presided over by Daisy
Rushor and got her partner, Trixey Thomas, and three male companions, John
Brown, Charles Rodgers and Nicholas Smith. All of them put up bail at once
except Brown. Friends bailed him out this morning at police court. The fine
assessed in each case was $5 and costs. Owing to the absence of Mayor Scherer,
Justice Huser presided at police court this morning.

Perhaps it was editorial discretion that provided the
synonyms for other such articles in this politically sensitive town. “Places of
ill repute” rarely seemed to find any ink in the Fort Wayne newspapers. Places of “easy
companionship” and other euphemisms may have been the terms of choice, for, as
it appears, some of those apprehended just happened to be sons and daughters of
“respectable parents.”

8 comments:

I was surprised to read that, too, Iggy--although I noticed it was for only one particular kind of court. I don't suppose that would make much of a difference, though. I'm with you: didn't sound much like the three branches of government were quite separate in that town.

Great stories! Sounds as if humanity is behaving as it always does, and policemen get to see a full cross-section. My favorite story is the dairyman's daughter eloping in the milk wagon with her chosen one. Priceless.

About Me

It is my contention that, after a lifetime, one of the greatest needs people have is to be remembered. They want to know: have I made a difference?
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